


Try Again

by Impala_Chick



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Getting to Know Each Other, Hospitals, M/M, Magic, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Serum, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: For the prompt: AU in which Post-CACW!Tony is sent back in time (by Dr. Strange) to prevent War, but things go wrong and he meets Pre-serum!Steve. There Tony learns a lot of things about Steve (and ends up helplessly falling for him).





	Try Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsukiharu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukiharu/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, I hope you enjoy!

Tony was going to have a nice long chat with Dr. Strange when he got back to 2017. A long chat about what exactly “before” the airport team meeting meant. Because when he had approached Dr. Strange about traveling back in time, he had specifically requested to be transported back to before. To re-negotiate with Cap, change the timeline, save the universe, etcetera. 

Even if Tony gave Dr. Strange the benefit of the doubt here, which was probably not warranted, the man could have reasonably transported Tony a couple weeks, two or maybe three years before the whole fight went down with Cap. Hell, maybe even ten years.

And yet, Tony was currently stuck in 1938. With no way to get home.

Dr. Strange had promised that since time operated in loops, he could be transported to a particular day or couple of days, and then the loop would close and he would be propelled back into his own time. 

Tony hadn’t really pressed him on the topic. He felt like he had nothing to lose and had come to Dr. Strange desperate for some way to undo what had been done. Even if there was no way to completely alter time once a loop had been closed, Dr. Strange had promised that it might be possible to feel echos in his own time. If he managed to make an impression.

Tony had a fleeting thought that maybe, in order to fix everything, Dr. Strange had been forced to send him back to a time before Steve even knew Tony. Maybe he was brought back to 1938 because this was before Steve even knew Howard. Tony scoffed at himself (before he let his self-loathing get the best of him).

The only reason he knew it was 1938 was because there was a newspaper on the ground, covered in footprints and dirt from the street. But Tony had been able to read the year on the front page. Tony spun around in a slow circle and whistled when he noticed the Model Ts and Dussenbergs rattling past him, the young boys in cuffed blue jeans and newspaper boy caps, the serious looking men in black and gray suits, the women in blue and red dresses, and the window panes all decorated with charming things like “chocolate milkshakes” and “25 cent film night.” He would have guessed he was somewhere pre-World War Two even without the signs and the clothes, because there were only a couple of skyscrapers. The skyline was totally wrong. 

Tony walked up and down the sidewalk gaping at shiny cars and storefront windows, while dressed in light blue jeans, plain black sneakers, a white t-shirt, and a blue bomber jacket, attracting strange looks from passerby. He figured they would all assume he was from out of town, so it probably didn’t matter much what he did at this point.

As if to force Tony to stop pacing the sidewalk like a mad man, the sky suddenly darkened and rain began to fall heavily. Tony pulled his blue jacket up over his head and ran under a nondescript blue awning. 

Tony stood there under the awning, debating what to do next, when a stream of young people tumbled out of the large metal double doors. They all had pencils or other writing instruments tucked behind their ears, and had brown or black folders tucked under their arms. Men and women of all shapes and sizes chattered excitedly to their friends, no one was wearing a suit, and the air was filled with youthful exuberance and hope. This had to be an art school.

Tony followed the crowd onto the street to get a good look at the sign.

_Auburndale Art School_

Steve’s art school.

Tony started to scan the crowd diligently. He had looked at Steve’s files (and pictures and trading cards and posters) a million times, and even before he had met Steve G. Rogers in the flesh, he could have recognized his face anywhere. That included every iteration of him, including his face before the super serum. 

Steve wasn’t in the crowd of students that had flooded out, so Tony stepped through the doors. He tried to appear nondescript, but he felt like he was way out of his element. No one else had facial hair. 

Also, he didn’t even know if Steve had class today. What if he didn't see him? What if he did see him? He knew he didn’t want to just walk up and try to explain how Steve’s life was going to go. He certainly didn’t want to say he was from the future, what kind of cliche move -

Steve was staring right at him. His head was cocked to the side and his right eyebrow was raised, as if he was both curious and confused. He had his hand on his hip, and his blonde bangs were flopped onto his forehead. There were a couple black smudges on his cheek, presumably from the charcoal he had been using to draw with. 

And he was small. At least, smaller. Tony never would have guessed Steve could seem so small. 

“You missed the class,” Steve said with a slight smile. 

“Typical for me, I’m afraid.” Tony shrugged, with his hands in his pockets. Might as well play on his persona a little bit. 

“Well, Mr. Logan teaches a charcoal foundations class on Tuesdays and Thursdays that you could still take.” Steve hefted his brown leather portfolio under his left arm, and it was wider than he was. 

(Tony was definitely staring a little)

“I doubt he’d want me in that class. I’m not very good,” Tony said, stepping closer. If his words came out a little flirty, it was because he couldn’t help himself.

Steve’s blue eyes turned earnest, and Tony had definitely seen that exact look before. Coming from small Steve, it seemed more honest and less insufferable. 

“He takes beginners. Besides, I’m sure you’re better then you think. His charcoal figure drawing class is great, too.”

“I’ll think about it. I’m Tony,” Tony said as he stuck out his hand. Steve stepped up to shake it. His grip was firm (not a surprise) but he was shorter than Tony (definitely a surprise). 

“I’m Steve.”

Tony resisted the urge to say ‘I know.’ Instead, he smiled and Steve smiled back and Tony really was totally out of his element. Steve wasn’t tense or secretive. Instead, he was open and warm. Relaxed, even. Tony didn’t feel like he needed to be on guard. 

“So, I’ve got to head to the hospital. I volunteer on Wednesdays and Saturdays…” Steve trailed off as he waived his hand towards the door. 

“Right, well. I’ve got nowhere to be?” (Literally) 

“They could always use extra hands, if you wanted to come along,” Steve said as he pulled his portfolio up again. It kept slipping down. 

Steve extended an opportunity for a total stranger (not to mention Tony was a lot older than this Steve) to both spend time with him and make a difference. Tony should not have been surprised, but he was.

“Sure. Anything to keep me out of trouble.” Tony followed Steve out and joined him on the sidewalk. Tony noticed that he nearly walked at the same speed that modern day Steve did, but this Steve had to make very long strides to do so. 

“What do you do at the hospital?” Tony attempted to make small talk.

“Roll bandages, change bedpans, help some of the patients take a walk, or just talk to them. A lot of them are veterans or soldiers, like my dad was. They have interesting stories.”

Steve spoke easily, as if he was talking about the weather. He clearly didn’t see his volunteering as anything out of the ordinary. 

“Does anyone else volunteer with you?” 

“Bucky, my best friend. Usually I can get him to come with me on the weekends.”

Steve just seemed so… wholesome. He was modern day Steve without the weight of the world on his shoulders, without all of the pain that goes with war and loss and failure.

“Your dad was a soldier?” Tony asked.

“Ya. In The Great War. But most dads were, right?” Steve shrugged, but Tony caught his look of pain before he covered it with a smile.

“Oh,” was all Tony could say at that point. There hadn't been much information about Steve Roger's father in his file. Maybe this Steve understood loss, even before he went to war. 

\---

Tony rolled bandages for a little while, debated whether or not to tinker with the Coolidge X-ray tube, decided the whole time travel thing meant he probably shouldn’t touch anything, and then followed Steve around the infirmary. Everyone knew Steve. They trusted him too, that much was obvious. Tony was sure they made a strange pair, wandering around the hospital greeting people, but the patients accepted Tony as one of their own, even though he was an older man with “quite unique facial hair.” Doris in room 15 had told him that, right before she winked.

“She likes you, ya know,” Steve had said.

“I got that impression too.” Tony smirked. He couldn’t help himself. He was having fun. 

Tony admired the way Steve conducted himself. He was infinitely patient and kind to everyone, no matter who they were or why they were in the hospital. When he helped patients out of bed and into their wheelchairs, he would carefully maneuver them and support them even though he wasn’t strong enough to lift them up himself. Tony would help by just lifting people out of bed, but Steve always reminded him to be careful and would hover over the patients as if they were his own parents.

Then, they visited Walter’s room. Before they walked in, Steve took a deep breath and Tony gave him a quizzical look.

“This is Walter,” Steve whispered conspiratorially, “he can be tough to deal with, but he’s been here forever.”

Tony nodded. He expected a grumpy old man bitching about the shitty food or something. But Walter wasn’t like that at all. 

“Nice to see you, Steve. You look like your mom.” Steve had been helping Walter sit up, and he paused briefly when Walter mentioned his mother. 

“You say that every time, Walter,” Steve said, polite as ever. But now Tony was tensed, on alert. Something wasn’t right. 

“Your mother would be so glad you work here, where she used to work,” Walter said with a smile as he scooted to the edge of the bed. Steve brought his wheelchair over.

“I know, Walter,” Steve sighed. Steve avoided Tony’s gaze as Tony reached over to put Walter into the wheelchair. 

“She was always so nice,” Walter sighed happily, reminiscing as Steve wheeled him out of the room. Tony trailed behind,but he saw Steve’s body tense. Tony knew where this was going. Walter kept referring to Steve’s mom in the past tense. She must have passed away already.

Steve steered the conversation away from his mom, and they brought Walter back to his room without incident. 

But Tony couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Tony blurted out as they walked out of the hospital. 

“Thanks.” Steve ducked his head, but Tony couldn’t miss the absolutely broken look on his face. He had seen that look before. Hell, Tony had put that expression on Steve’s face before. 

It was strange how this Steve, the Steve who had looked so innocent and pure when Tony first met him, could look just like his modern day self. Even without huge muscles and a wider frame, his personality was the same. That meant modern day Steve was still this person underneath all of that. Resolute, caring, earnest. Even though he did not have to be. The pain was always there, rippling under his skin, but he kept it at bay. And Tony hadn’t realized.

“How long?” Tony asked, his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“You’re a stranger. You’re older than me,” Steve blurted out, taking a step back. Maybe Tony had taken this too far.

“I, uh. I’m not trying to be forward,” Tony said apologetically, rubbing his hand through his hair. He couldn’t explain what he was feeling to this Steve. He would seem crazy.

Steve took a deep breath, and studied Tony with piercing blue eyes. Muscles or no, Steve was still a little imposing. He was deciding whether he could trust Tony. 

Steve opened his mouth, and Tony felt slightly guilty that his heart skipped a beat. He definitely should not be focusing so intently on those baby blues. He absolutely should not be so happy that at least this Steve trusted him. He most certainly should not be falling for the man in front of him, an iteration of the man who had beaten him and scarred him in more ways then just the physical.

“It’s okay. I’m very alone now that my mom is gone. It still hurts, and Bucky is my only family. I’m not… I could use friends right now.” Steve crossed his arms. The signals were clear. Steve wanted his distance, but he had just said they could be friends. That was better than what Tony had currently. With modern day Steve.

“I can do that,” Tony replied, determined. He meant it in more timelines than one. 

“Okay, well I’ll see you around, Tony,” Steve said as he extended his hand. Tony shook it, and smiled. Steve offered him a shy smile back, and Tony was elated. 

He waived as Steve turned to walk away, and then Tony was violently propelled forward into blackness.

Time travel was a bitch.

Tony couldn’t feel anything except the sensation of falling. He struggled to keep his body centered, but there was nothing to push against to counter-balance himself. In his mind’s eye, he saw flashes of modern day Steve, of their first meeting in that SHIELD conference room. Steve had looked at him, annoyed. But Tony saw now that Steve had _recognized_ him. Then Tony saw some of the fights they had, and heard Steve saying that Tony hadn’t been there for the team. Had been too reckless, had been too stubborn (probably true), had only looked out for himself instead of trying to accomplish things _together_. Tony wondered whether Steve was mad at him for ditching him in 1938. But looking at Steve’s body in those flashes of memory, Tony also saw the pain hidden there in the tense line of Steve's shoulders, in his furrowed brow, in his clenched fists. The pain that Tony hadn’t seen before. The pain that, just maybe, Steve had thought he was saving Tony from.

Then he abruptly stopped falling and dropped to his feet in front of Dr. Strange, in Dr. Strange’s living room, right by his ostentatious staircase. 

Tony struggled to catch his breath while Dr. Strange stared at him, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“It went well, I take it?” Dr. Strange was being an extremely smug bastard, if anyone asked Tony.

“You planned that,” Tony huffed. It wasn’t a question.

“Sometimes time has a mind of its own,” Dr. Strange said mystically. Typical.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a call,” Tony said as he pulled the gray flip phone out of his pocket. It was time to swallow his pride (or at least ignore it) and try again.

Dr. Strange smiled like he knew exactly what Tony was up to. 

At least that made one of them.


End file.
